Unwilling to Bleed
by GreySilhouette
Summary: In a Star Wars universe where the vampire Darth Vader is suit less, independent Rebel agent Obi-Wan Kenobi has been captured by the Empire and taken to the Sith, both of whom develop plans for him. Plans that, if realised, may have devastating consequences on what is left of Obi-Wan's life...
1. Splintered Stars

The door to the cell creaked open. Obi-Wan shook himself awake in time to see Darth Vader swagger in and hear him tell the troopers behind him to shut them in.

He eyed the Sith Lord warily, and moved away when his former student sat down beside him on the hard ledge that was the closest thing to furniture in the room. "What do you want?"

Vader smiled at him, edging closer until the only way Obi-Wan could get away would be to stand up. "Can I not just come to visit my favourite Jedi?"

_Favourite?_ That didn't even merit an answer, so Obi-Wan refused to give him one, instead staring straight ahead at the bare metal wall opposite. He heard Vader sigh, then stiffened as a nose – a _cold_ nose, he couldn't help noting – made contact with his neck, sniffing and nuzzling where the artery passed below his skin.

He did stand up then; subtlety could go kriff itself. He was not going to let Vader do that to him.

The Sith Lord followed him, backing him into a corner. There was not exactly anywhere in the cell for Obi-Wan to run and soon, after a bit of a struggle, Vader had the Jedi pinned against the wall with his body, his metal hand pinning Obi-Wan's wrists above his head. Obi-Wan tried to hit him with his knee, twisting away, but Vader pressed in, hoisting him up, until he was of the ground and the only thing holding him up was the pressure of the Sith Lord's body, legs pinning legs, hips on hips, chest on chest, with his arms held above his head and Vader once more nuzzling at his neck.

"Let go of me!" Obi-Wan attempted once more to twist out of Vader's grasp, resulting in Vader adding the Force to his hold, immobilising the Jedi, and binding his jaw shut. The Sith pulled away, smirking.

"Tut-tut Obi-Wan, where are your manners?" He paused momentarily, as if expecting an answer, and then continued, raising his flesh hand to caress Obi-Wan's jawline. The Jedi tried to flinch away, and found he was not allowed even that much movement. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. I was going to ask nicely, you know. You do remember the incident on the planet of, Llewebum don't you?" His fingers came to rest on Obi-Wan's pulse. It was beating faster than normal.

Obi-Wan did remember. It had been one of the first missions they had taken after the war erupted, and they had become cut off from any help during a cave in of the underground base they had been searching. Anakin had actually fared better than Obi-Wan to start with, as Obi-Wan had only water while Anakin had had enough blood for a feed on him, and that feed would last him a week. Digging their way out hat become priority, though the deadline was pushed back when they discovered some more water and abandoned ration packs.

It had taken them more than a week to dig their way out though. No one had known where they were, as they were technically not allowed in that area and had not wanted to leave evidence that could be used against them for the benefit of the Separatists they suspected they would find, and so no one had known where to look for them. And when the week was up, Anakin's hunger kicked in.

Ever since being Turned into a Vampire, Anakin had been accustomed to regular feedings – every three of four days – that could, in an emergency, last for a Standard week of five Standard days or possibly even six, though they had never tested it, and it would have the same effects on Anakin as depriving a Human of water after four and three quarter days. He knew that, because they had checked that, by waiting until Anakin's hunger began to kick in before giving him his next meal a couple of times.

And in the collapsed base, that time passed by, and they had a problem. Feeding from packets of blood was one thing, but they both had researched extensively about vampires after Anakin had transformed, and both were well aware that Feeding from a living being was not just only accomplishable when the living being was the same species as the Vampire had been before they Transformed, but that it would cause the being to recognise the Vampire should they ever be fed upon more than once. Multiple feedings upon the same person could also cause gradual transformation, instead of the "drain 'em" method as it was generally referred to, where the Vampire completely drained a person of blood, and then fed them some of their own.

Obi-Wan had known that they would not get out in time for Anakin to get the blood he needed, and so had offered his own. Anakin, who hadn't even considered the possibility of Feeding on Obi-Wan, had been stunned, and very grateful.

It had been an odd experience. Some texts had described it as arousing, and Obi-Wan supposed that it could be, under some circumstances, but it had been a matter of necessity, between mentor and student, and so for them, it hadn't been. Obi-Wan hadn't regretted saving Anakin's life. He had not, however, been prepared for the feelings that came with the first prick of the fangs.

Vampire fangs were teeth, and rather large ones at that, and as such would rather hurt it they were stuck in someone's neck. This was not conductive to people letting Vampire's feed on them, so as a semi-necessity, they had evolved painkilling venom that that the first prick of the fangs injected into the victim.

Obi-Wan had known this, and been prepared for it. Anakin had known this, and had waited a moment for it to take effect despite his hunger. What they hadn't expected was the odd mutation of the venom Anakin's Force sensitivity had caused. Force sensitive Vampires were an unlikely occurrence, after all. Sensitive's were trained, and that training gave them a purpose, which would prevent them giving everything up and joining the ranks, and which also allowed them warning regarding injuries that were mortal unless turned, vampires that were recruiting without the victims permission, and the like.

The mutation to the painkilling venom had caused Obi-Wan to have a reaction somewhat akin to a drug high, along with automatic submission to the Vampire. He had been utterly helpless, and it had shaken him. It had shaken Anakin as well when he had told him.

Yes, he remembered. And now, with Vader trapping him against the wall, the chill seeping through thin prison clothing from the metal behind and with Vader fingering his pulse, he knew Vader would have none of the moral compunctions Anakin had had about taking advantage of that.

He had expected torture, when he was captured. He would have preferred that now. Torture, he knew how to resist.

This, he knew he couldn't. And it scared him.

Vader's smirk grew, yellow streaks creeping into his eyes with whatever he was thinking, before he suddenly pounced on the Jedi, crushing him against the wall, metal hand resuming its grip. The Force restraint melted away even as he felt the tell-tale prick on his neck.

_No…_

Vader laughed mockingly, breath raising goosebumps on Obi-Wan's neck – and then it didn't as the venom took effect, numbing the area before moving on to blur Obi-Wan's sense of reality for a moment, the odd and momentary sensation of the places in his brain that produced the endorphin that in humans induces feelings of pleasure going into overdrive even as he felt his muscles relaxing, shutting down, submitting to the being that had the power to cause that sensation.

He'd been too surprised on Llewebum to really analyse what caused it. This time though, he felt the moment when it happened, and wondered, in a distant corner of his mind, whether it was an unconscious Force use that took advantage of the endorphins flooding his system. But it didn't really matter, at least right now. Whatever caused it, the effect was the same.

Vader let go of his wrists, seemingly testing the effects. He needn't have worried, Obi-Wan thought bitterly as the released limbs fell and came to rest limply at his sides.

The Sith chuckled, and _licked_ the small puncture marks, grinding his hips against Obi-Wan for a moment before he stepped back, satisfied that he had compounded the Jedi's feelings of helplessness and disgust. Obi-Wan fell to the floor, staggering as his feet impacted and then as Vader steered him over to the bench with nothing more forceful than a hand between his shoulder blades.

The hand fell away, and Vader regarded him for a moment, taking in the lack of tension in his stance, how his shoulders bowed forward just slightly in comparison to his usual almost military stance, the way his head was lowered and his gaze fixed on the floor.

More yellow crept into the Sith Lord's eyes. "Well, well, well. General Kenobi, a Jedi Council member and Rebel, utterly at my mercy. Look up."

Obi-Wan's eyes rose. He would dearly have liked to take it literally and gaze at the ceiling, but that proved impossible, and he found his eyes meeting the yellow of Darth Vader's. There was a dark, anticipatory smile on his face.

"You don't like that, do you?"

No. No, he didn't like it at all.

"You know, I wasn't entirely sure it would hold, what with you not having my teeth in you to inject more," Vader mused. "I must remember to experiment just how much I can make people do with this as some point – I do hope you won't mind being the test subject?"

He minded very much. But his mouth didn't move, and the words lay heavy in his throat as he attempted to make them known.

"I take it that you don't." Vader's smile was more a predatory bearing of his teeth, fangs included. He sat, and then manhandled the other into his lap. "Head back."

Even as he felt his body comply, he hated himself for it.

And he hated Vader for putting him in this position.

The Sith Lord bent his head, holding the Jedi close in grotesque parody of caring as he broke the skin – on the side of his neck that hadn't been anaesthetised.

A.N. As stated in the summary, not to be taken too seriously. Reviews would be nice, even if just to tell me if the rating was justified or over-the-top.


	2. Our Faded Wounds

He woke what was probably some hours later, to a chill and the sound of his heart beating faster than normal. Opening his eyes, he attempted to look around, and then dropped his head back to the metal of the bench as the world tilted and he was hit by the feeling of having been stepped on by a tank.

_Ow…_

What had – right. Vader.

Gingerly, the Jedi raised a hand to his neck. The puncture holes had scabbed over, thankfully, though the area around them was tender to the touch. Probably bruised. It wouldn't, from what he could feel, be the only area: the struggle had been short, but violent. He could see a dark bloom of colour on his wrist, to start with.

Once again, he absently wished for the Force, before dismissing the thought. He didn't have it, and while it would have helped when he was struggling against Vader, there was nothing he could have done once the venom had entered his system.

Pushing himself upright, he stretched, relishing that the control of his limbs had been returned to him, at least for now. He was under no illusions that this would be a one-off. Even without Vader's sinister promise of finding out just how much control he could have over Obi-Wan, he would have known the Sith would return. Vader enjoyed having power over others too much not to, especially those that had once had power over _him_, whether that authority had been by virtue of position or emotional.

Obi-Wan had been both, and Vader apparently hated him for it. Hated him, and wanted to have him under his control, as though that would destroy the past power Obi-Wan had had over Anakin, as his Master, and as his friend. Sith Lord's did not need friends, after all. They did not need wives either, if what Anakin had done to Padme was any indication. Going by their habit of killing them, they also considered themselves above having Masters.

Obi-Wan did not know all that much Sith philosophy. Despite this he had, before Order 66, been one of the Jedi who knew the most about it. Partly because of his position on the Council, which granted him access to many restricted records, but also because of his experience in the field. He had defeated Maul while fighting the temptation of the Dark side, and granted, Maul had not quite died – you would think that cutting someone in half with a lightsaber would kill them – but he had been defeated, and Obi-Wan had defeated his own darker emotions. Maybe it had been because he had been fighting a Sith at the time, for he was most definitely not the only Jedi to have struggled with the darker emotions, but he had found that after, he had understood. Understood why Maul could hold onto a thousand year old grudge, and kill for it. When he went on missions as a new Knight, both solo and with his Padawan, he found that he understood those who would destroy others so much better.

He had thought it normal, up until mentioning it in a friendly discussion with Mace Windu, who had appointed himself surrogate mentor to the young Knight, had caused an alarmed reaction.

His understanding grew as the years passed and he saw more of the galaxy. Understanding what motives people had, that was normal, encouraged, but understanding those motives, understanding what drove the corrupt, the ones who had they been Force sensitive would have been Darksiders, was not. Knowing, yes, understanding, no.

Then the Clone wars had erupted, and Obi-Wan had found himself in the middle of a war, and getting into fights with more Sith. Never the Sith Master, just Apprentices and Acolytes, but that had been more than enough. He had seen what drove Asajj Ventress, and sympathised despite disagreeing, and resolved to bring her back to the light. It was an endeavour his colleagues had labelled unwise, even foolhardy – but he had been right, in the end, about her.

He had been wrong about Anakin.

Or – no. His faith in Anakin had been a product of his promise to his Master. He had had to believe, because if a teacher does not believe in their student then that student will have no reason to believe in themself and their ability to learn. He had come to believe in Anakin himself later, after getting to know the boy, but that belief had originated as the belief of a teacher in his student.

_The boy is dangerous._

Sometimes, he really hated being proved right. And he didn't even know _why_ Anakin had fallen.

Solitary imprisonment was, above all, boring. He was confined to a metal box, with a ledge set in one wall as it's only feature, with no indication of how much time had passed other than the occasional plate of something that might have passed as a meal and cup of water, which he suspected were delivered at irregular intervals. He considered counting the time between them to find out, but he was not quite that out of things to think about.

Other than the solitary, he was not being tortured, something that he found slightly baffling. All the Sith he had encountered were the types to go straight for causing as much pain as possible to the prisoner. Vader was included in that list, which meant that Darth Vader was not the sole person in charge of his treatment.

A chill went down the Jedi's spine. The only person he knew of that had the power to override Vader was the Emperor himself. And if the Emperor was overriding Vader on the matter of Obi-Wan's treatment, it meant that the Emperor was taking a hand in Obi-Wan's treatment, making note of his presence.

What could he have done that would have attracted the Emperor's attention? He supposed surviving might have done it, but it had been a fluke, chance and the sacrifice of a friend that had allowed him to live when so many had died. From what he had seen and heard, Palpatine was focusing on consolidating his Empire, leaving the mop up of Republic Loyalists and the emerging groups of rebels to his apprentice. Darth Vader's former identity of Anakin Skywalker had been very helpful to the Empire in that respect. He had heard it quite a few times of late - Skywalker had been a hero of the Republic, after all, so he couldn't be supporting something truly bad – maybe he knows something we don't? And it went the other way too. Those who knew the full extent of Vader's crimes tended to look on Obi-Wan with suspicion, and he knew there were rumours circulating that maybe he was working with Skywalker. They were The Team. Skywalker betrayed us, so Kenobi could do the same. No one is above suspicion.

No one is above suspicion. While proving to be an annoyance for Obi-Wan right now, it was a good concept. He remembered with black humour Mace Windu's pronouncement that the only reason Palpatine had not been under suspicion of being the Sith Lord they were looking for was that he already ruled the galaxy.

Given that Palpatine _had_ turned out to be Sidious, those fighting against him were wary from the still fresh memory of being betrayed from within; hence, the suspicion against Obi-Wan. General Kenobi, part of the _The Team _that was Kenobi and Skywalker, who were close as brothers. It made sense. And it left a bitter taste in the mouth of someone who had been just as betrayed by Anakin Skywalker as they had.

To distract himself, he pondered what he knew of Sidious. While he had met plenty of times with Palpatine, occasionally alone, he had never come face to face with the unmasked Dark Lord of the Sith. He frankly had no desire to. He was not a match for Sidious, who had orchestrated a galactic war, shielded his presence from and manipulated the Jedi Order, destroyed said Order of Jedi, and had seduced Anakin to the Dark Side to rule the Galaxy. Obi-Wan had stood in direct opposition to him on some of those issues, like destroying the Jedi Order and Anakin's Fall, and he had failed to prevent either.

It had been Obi-Wan's experience that even the most evil of people still had some good in them, and even the best of people had some darkness in them. Palpatine baffled him because of this, because despite searching for something that could help him _understand_, so he could use that understanding to _predict_, and then _use against_ – he had been unable to find even the slightest bit of goodness in the Sith Master. Palpatine was not about to be brought down by some moral he still held to in a misguided fashion because as far as anyone had been able to find, he didn't _have_ any. Vader still wanted to save people as Anakin had, though it had narrowed from "everyone" to "my empire, by means of the death of all those who disagree with it", and his definition of the word "enemy" was frighteningly inclusive at "anyone not in total agreement with me". Asajj had wanted revenge for the loss of light in her life, which she had believed to be the Jedi's fault. She had wanted that revenge because she recognised what she had lost, and wanted it back, knew it was impossible to get it back in that form and so wanted to hurt those who had hurt _her_.

Sidious…wanted power. And more power. And while there might be something Obi-Wan was missing, the fact remained that he _was_ missing it. He could see nothing in Palpatine _but_ darkness. It was like looking into a black hole, and that black hole had sucked Anakin closer and closer until he was so firmly entrenched that Sidious could turn him against the Jedi Order. And Obi-Wan had missed it.

What was most likely four days passed in what seemed to be forever. Obi-Wan was used to that; he had been captured and tortured before, and solitary was one of the mental games he had been taught how to resist. Oddly though, it also passed very quickly, far quicker than Obi-Wan had been expecting it to, although in reflection he realised perhaps he should have. Time flies when you are dreading something, after all. Since Vader had fed on him, had controlled him in that way and declared that he was going to test the limits of that control, Obi-Wan had been dreading what would happen next.

Vader didn't know how far his control with the venom (and what Obi-Wan was increasingly suspected was some unconscious use of the Force) extended. No one did, and no one included Obi-Wan, who was apparently slated as the test subject.

How far would Vader be able to control him? He had disabled Obi-Wan's physical defences, had ordered him about. Obi-Wan had not been able to defend himself, or even misinterpret the orders. Despite considerable mental discipline, his dreams came up with imagined answers, things that Vader could order him to do and he would have to go through with and watch helplessly. And every time, he woke up with his neck aching.

It was perhaps, he thought, a good thing when the Stormtroopers came to get him. At least then he could stop wondering.


	3. A Difference in Name

His hands were cuffed too tightly. The plastoid binders bit into his skin, aggravating bruises that had only just started to fade, as the two Stormtroopers on either side of him grabbed his elbows and pulled him forward.

It was the first place other than his cell he had seen since he woke up here. He had caught a glimpse of the room outside his when Vader came in, but all he had seen was more grey metal.

His cell was not, it seemed, straight off the corridor. There was another room the prisoner and overly large group of guards had to get through, one filled with monitoring equipment that was focused on Obi-Wan's cell. All the equipment and personnel were on the side of the door they had just come out of, so that all a prisoner _would_ see would be blank wall.

Having been expecting some sort of extra security, Obi-Wan did not react to the couple of sidelong glances sent his way by the beings at the screens. He did briefly look around, before getting a shove and a reminder to keep his "eyes front," from a nearby trooper – one behind him, not the ones that still had not let go of his elbows.

He was led out into the actual corridor, which was just as he had suspected it would be; an industrial grey bare metal, with the occasional door that had an almost ridiculous amount of security.

His footsteps echoed, out of time with the perfectly uniform marching of the troopers. When his feet began to automatically fall in line with the beat due to his prior accustomedness to Clone troopers, he deliberately kept them out of time.

They were not, thankfully, troopers that he recognised. Combined with the 501st emblem on their shoulders, he supposed they must be new enough to not remember the Clone Wars, or at most had only seen the very end of it.

It didn't take long to reach their destination. Behind another one of those doors was another corridor, then another, then a door to a room that, while still pretty bare, had more colour than anywhere else he had seen since arriving.

The troopers march him to the centre of it as he looked around as best he could. The walls were covered in a thick, velvety material coloured a deep shade of red. The floor was linoleum wood pattern, as though someone had wanted to add a touch of comfort without increasing the difficulty involved in cleaning up any mess which might be created – they were on a level that housed prisoners, after all. He knew enough about how the Empire regularly treated its enemies to guess that the mess that might be created would involve, blood, vomit, other bodily fluids, and more blood. The room even had the importance to merit a chair in the corner nearest the door.

The reason for that chair became apparent when Vader stalked in a couple of minutes later, glare immediately fixing itself on the Jedi, followed by –

Oh, this was not good.

Darth Sidious followed his apprentice in, gliding behind him like a bird of prey about to pounce.

Obi-Wan fought the urge to swallow as another pair of eyes, these ones completely yellow, fixed themselves on him.

Not. Good.

Sidious dismissed the troopers with a wave of his hand, apparently ignoring the flicker of a scowl Vader sent his way before he schooled his expression back to glaring at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan wondered absently in a corner of his mind what was going on there, then dismissed it as Vader's resentment at having to answer to anyone who was not himself being aggravated by his Sith Master in some sort of power play. Force knew Anakin had been fond of those.

What was Sidious doing here?

He backed against the wall as soon as they let go if him, his bound hands hitting it first. The door cut off the sound of the troopers marching away as soon as it closed behind them, leaving him alone, bound and without the Force, with the two Sith who had brought down the Republic.

Sidious moved over to the chair, easing himself into it, and Obi-Wan blinked. This was the man who had defeated four of the best sword beings in the Jedi Order, at once, on his own? Who, with Vader, had maimed and almost killed Master Yoda?

_I guess he's getting old_. Obi-Wan fought a hysterical giggle.

Vader stalked over to him and grabbed him by the material of the thin prison shirt. Obi-Wan glared at him as he was dragged across until he was in front of the Emperor, and was given a shove that was meant to force him to his knees. He managed to keep his feet, and Vader glared harder, more yellow creeping into his eyes as Obi-Wan stared defiantly back. Then the Jedi was bodily picked up with the Force and flung to the floor.

_You could have asked nicely. I wouldn't have given in, but you could have asked first. Honestly Anakin, that was just rude._ The part of him that would always be the teacher of a young boy named Anakin Skywalker grumbled. That rudeness was probably the point, or at least part of it, but oh well.

Groaning a bit, the Jedi picked himself up, and found Sidious watching him and all but licking his lips in anticipation.

"You had no trouble bowing to me before," Sidious mock contemplated. "Does this have anything to do with my appearance? I'm hurt, Master Jedi, I truly am. I am sure you know that it was one of _you_ who inflicted this disfigurement of the flesh upon me." He paused, and sighed sadly and dramatically. Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. He knew instinctively that he was not going to like what was coming next. "But, my boy, I am willing to forgive. You were one of the masses hero's, and despite your recent…anarchism and disloyalty, it would not take much to restore their faith in you. You do not have to force yourself into the role of a prisoner, Master Kenobi. Join us, as your Padawan did."

Well. That explained Vader's annoyance a bit; the Sith Apprentice had seemed to relish the idea of exploring how far he could control Obi-Wan. Having the opportunity snatched away from him by his Master overruling him had to damage his ego. Given that he had wanted to control _Obi-Wan_ in particular, and not just any random person, Obi-Wan could confirm his suspicion that Vader had made this personal, at least in his mind.

He knew what Sidious was offering. A position of importance in the Empire, and a way out of this nightmarish experiment: the carrot and the stick.

A nightmarish experiment that he did not know what the results would be. Maybes, what ifs…they were, in many ways, a more effective threat than knowing what was to come. Was that how Anakin had fallen?

He couldn't think of that right now.

Palpatine wanted him. _Sidious_ wanted him. One of the masses hero's, he had called him, referring to his image from the Clone wars. It would be a propaganda victory for the Sith, and he would gain control of a highly trained Force-user into the bargain. Obi-Wan could see the reasoning behind the offer. He could see why Vader, stiff and looming, thought he would accept it and deprive him of his personal victory.

"No. I refuse."

Whatever geniality Sidious had been feigning vanished.

"So be it then," the Dark Lord of the Sith half hissed, half spat. "Proceed, Lord Vader."

This time, Vader grabbed him before he could retreat – there was nowhere to go anyway, just as there hadn't been anywhere in the cell, before. He struggled anyway, landing a solid punch in the Sith's gut before he felt the now horribly familiar prick on his neck, and his body was no longer his own.

Swearing mentally as loud as he could and almost hoping that the two Sith would hear him, he waited.

He could have accepted the offer, he knew in the back of his mind. It would have gone against everything he believed in, but it might have given him space to breath, and more importantly a chance to escape.

Accepting, though, would have meant giving in to the Dark side, however briefly. That was what the Dark Lord wanted, and would have demanded from him, exchanging the chains on his wrists for chains in his mind, which was frankly a terrible trade. Physical chains were far easier to escape. Despite what Sidious had said, "forcing himself into the role of a prisoner" applied far more to Sidious's offer than his current predicament. They were the ones responsible for his current position, for the most part. He had been idiotic enough to get caught in the first place, but they were the ones who had done this to him. Accepting the offer would have meant doing essentially the same thing to _himself_. Anakin might not have been able to see the difference, from his words in the ruins of the Jedi Temple, but Obi-Wan Kenobi was not Anakin Skywalker. And Obi-Wan Kenobi_ could_ see the difference.

And so he waited. Waited while Vader recovered from his punch and straightened up, fury in every line of his body and shining fiercely in the red streaks that crept through the yellow of his eyes, something Obi-wan, with his eyes fixed on the fake wooden flooring, could not see but would not have been at all surprised to learn. He did not need to have access to the Force to tell him that Vader was now looking forward to this even more than he already had been. He waited, while the Emperor of the Galaxy, who had earned that title through destroying all Obi-Wan had held dear, leaned forward in his chair, anticipating gleefully what was about to happen to the Jedi who had dared refuse his offer, and wondering how far the control would extend and how he could use it for his own goals.

Obi-Wan waited, trying and failing not to fear what would happen next.

A.N. Obi-Wan appears to be in trouble – more trouble, that is. And I have now figured out just what went down when Palpatine took over here; what happened to Padme, Luke and Leia, Yoda, Obi-Wan, Vader, all the main characters in the drama that was the downfall of the Republic.

Thanks to everyone who has read this, and for those who have out it on alert for the support. Do please tell me what you think of it.

Grey


	4. Lights on the Water

Vader was the first to move, crossing his arms over his chest as he stood in front of the Jedi. "What to do first? Hmm…kneel. And look at me."

As his body lowered itself to its knees, Obi-Wan mentally huddled up, imagining curling up in a corner with a blanket as he had done after nightmares in the crèche when he was only a couple of years old – and then he let the imagining go, just before his eyes met those of the Sith Lord standing over him. He was here, now, and the Temple had burned. He had seen the aftermath, fought among the bodies even as he recognised the corpses of his friends and comrades and had to work on not letting the tears escape his eyes, which could blur his vision and prove deadly.

Vader was smirking.

Obi-Wan rather wanted to spit at him. He would not have done it even if he had had control of his body, but for a moment, before the let the desire go, he wanted to.

Durasteel fingers wound their way through his hair, the bare metal joints catching and pulling painfully at it. The fingers were cold, and Obi-Wan felt like shivering inside, a feeling that intensified when Vader's flesh hand came to rest once more on the pulse in his neck. It felt clammy.

Vader leaned down, eyes shining with a sick glee that Obi-Wan would rather have not noticed. "Oh, I like this. Let's see, why don't you bow next."

At least that broke the eye contact. Stomach burning with the shame caused by not only having been unable to avoid it again, but to be this helpless in front of not only Vader, but Sidious, who would be looking to get more than the personal revenge and feeling of gratification it seemed to bring Vader.

Humiliation he could deal with. Especially if humiliation was the alternative to finding out just how he could be used against those fighting against the Empire, he could deal with it. He didn't like it at all, but then, he knew he had always been a bit too proud

Sidious would use him and Vader's power over him, to hurt those fighting against the Empire. They were not, for the most part, Obi-Wan's allies – they were too suspicious, too wary of another betrayal like Palpatine's and Anakin's, and in some cases just too anti Jedi. The earlier cells of resistance had been ones that were already formed when the Empire rose, after all.

There were Jedi-including operations, but his connection with Anakin made them too wary of betrayal. Ironically, it was his position as council member that worked against him there; beings had not been promoted to the council unless they had been good enough at shielding their mind to protect the delicate information that had passed through that chamber, and then they were taught more ways of shielding their minds. Most of the Jedi survivors Obi-Wan had run into since Order 66 had been suspicious because they had no way of verifying who he was working for. There had not been many. Very few Jedi had escaped, and of those Garen and Master Yoda had been perhaps the only ones to completely believe in him. Even Ferus had been suspicious, in spite of Garen's vouching for him.

He needed to stop thinking about the rebels. That much was safe enough – the Empire knew that Garen and Ferus and Yoda had survived, knew that there were a few other Jedi that had lived, and he imagined that if they hadn't known that the Rebels were suspicious of Obi-Wan then they had at least guessed. They had worked towards it at least a bit, recycling old Clone Wars propaganda to boost Vader's image, propaganda that had included Obi-Wan instead of digging out the images that were of Anakin alone, from the times that they had not been working together, or had been working on separate parts of the same thing.

Vader crouched and reached out and stroked the Jedi's cheek – sunken, from too long living with barely enough to eat and not even that at times when staying alive _now_ had been prioritised over the eating needed to survive in the long term – and Obi-Wan wondered briefly and irritably what all the manhandling was about, before tuning in as he realised that he was standing up again.

Alright, it appeared that he did not have to be paying attention for Vader to order him about. _Not_ good to know.

"Lord Vader, you can play with him later. Right now I want results, not entertainment."

Kriff.

"Yes Master," Vader acquiesced, fists clenching at being denied his fun. His face was coming dangerously close to an ugly pout that in no way belonged on the face of any being over the age of six, at most, which would have been funny if Sidious had not just stopped postponing the reality that had caused the nightmares Obi-Wan had been having, and if Obi-Wan had not known that he would be bearing the brunt of Vader's anger.

"Can you talk? Yes or no."

The words were spat in his face, and some spittle landed on Obi-Wan's cheek. He found himself staying silent, impassive. _Oh good, there is a limit._

"I asked you a question!" Vader grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him so badly and suddenly that his head snapped back, something which hurt quite a lot. Well, it was not like these two of all people cared about his comfort and safety.

"If the answer is no, then he is hardly going to talk about it." Sidious seemed almost amused. And thoughtful, which was never a good thing for a captor to be when he was being held captive. Obi-Wan would have preferred anger; angry people make mistakes, the Sith included. There was a moment of silence in the room as Vader let go of Obi-Wan, Sidious getting the faraway look that apparently meant looking to the Force for Sith as well as Jedi. "Then again, he may just not answer questions."

Vader snarled. Maybe it was because they had run into a limiting factor so quickly, but he did not appear to be enjoying this now anything like as much as he had been. "Repeat after me, the Sith Order is better than the Jedi."

"The Sith Order is better than the Jedi."

Obi-Wan heard the words spoken in a low monotone, not registering for a moment who was saying it, and then he indulged in another moment of swearing at the top of his thoughts. So, Vader could cause him to speak, as well. _ This could be problematic._

Eyes focused on the floor, he could not see their expressions, but he could guess. Vader, at least, he knew well enough to suppose that the snarl had melted away, a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth to replace it, his eyes lighting up in cruel satisfaction.

Inwardly, Obi-Wan scowled. Quite apart from the problems this revelation could cause, the Sith were _not_ better than the Jedi. They just had "must have superiority complex" as one of their entry requirements.

A soft, terrifying sound reached his ears.

It was creepy, it grated on his ears and nerves, and under normal circumstances it would have set his teeth on edge and caused his hair to stand on end. Low and irregular, reminiscent of coughing but far more sinister, coming from vocal cords that sounded like they rarely, if ever, were used that way – Sidious was chuckling.

Obi-Wan did not need access to the Force to have a Bad Feeling about this.

"Master?" Vader's voice sounded as though it were coming from a long way off, through some substance thicker than air.

The sound abruptly cut off. "Continue, Lord Vader," Sidious proclaimed ostentatiously, as though addressing a large crowd who should consider themselves the luckiest people in the galaxy to have the opportunity to hear his voice as he announced some grand revelation. Obi-Wan had heard that tone before, over the holonet when Sidious had announced hat to Jedi had rebelled against the Republic, and then turned the Republic into an Empire with one grand, world shaking bunch of _lies_.

Vader continued. Obi-Wan paid attention, knowing better than to wish he were not in this position – it would be utterly pointless, would not help in any way, and would take away time that he could put into gathering information – wanting to know the limits of Vader's control as much as they did, though for entirely different reasons. As the one on the other end of the control, he possibly wanted to know _more_. And so the experimenting continued.

Sidious could not order him about. That, after his inability to answer questions, was the Jedi's first major cause of relief. Not answering questions meant that he could not be asked and have to answer questions about other surviving Jedi, who was helping them, who was involved in various rebel groups and where some of their bases were, all the things he knew which could damage various people who were fighting, building underground resistance in ways that had not yet come to the Empire's attention, hiding those with prices and/or death warrants on their heads under the Empire's rule. Sidious's inability to order him about, and then one of the clones that they recruited to help when they came to take Obi-Wan back to his cell – he supposed they set a time limit on their little _experiment_ – it meant that the only one who had that power over him, even when drugged by the venom, was Vader. Vader was possibly the second worst person in the Galaxy to have that power, but he was not _the _worst, and Obi-Wan could take some small comfort from that.

Sidious swept out, ordering Vader to come by his office once he is finished, and the Clones watched, their expressions stoically unreadable but their faces varying degrees of pale, as Vader bit Obi-Wan's neck and drank his fill. The Sith made sure the side he drank from was not the side he anaesthetised, like last time, but the painkilling agent had dispersed enough that the area _is_ slightly numb. Maybe that is what makes the difference, maybe Vader just does not drink as much this time, but for whatever reason, Obi-Wan is still awake at the end. Vader pulls away, his mouth stained, and Obi-Wan can feel the blood trickling out of the wound, almost ticklish, and he has not passed out as he has the other two times he has been fed on. He is wavering on his feet; nothing, not even Vader's control, could hide that. He is far too pale, with fresh blood on his neck, but he is awake.

Vader eyes him. "I don't think you need to bother with the binders," he tells the Clones, and despite the phrasing they correctly interpret it as an order that Obi-Wan will analyse the meaning of when he isn't feeling quite so woozy. They leave the binders off as they surround him, Vader orders him to go quietly and they prod him out into the hall. Unlike the last time, he is almost grateful for the hands holding his elbows. He may be able to keep himself upright, but he is not so sure about his ability to determine the right direction.

There is another person in one of the hallways they go through, and Obi-Wan blinks at him for a moment before realising that he _isn't_ hallucinating from the blood loss. Apparently the feeling is mutual, as the figure in dark clothing blinks in return, before his eyes narrow and he starts half ranting that he should have known better that to trust someone who's apprentice ran off and became a Sith, and images of Yoda and Dooku flash through his mind, but he is too tired to laugh at the absurdity of that line of thought before his attention is dragged back to Ferus – and what is Ferus doing here? – as he claims that he knew something was off, and the Obi-Wan should have listened to him all those years ago, before Anakin dragged him down with him as he fell and became Vader.

If Ferus is here, then he's either a prisoner, which he clearly isn't, or he's turned, meaning that that little speech is a bit…"Rich," he manages to mumble, because it is rich, a speech about how Obi-Wan should have avoided the Dark side when he's not actually on it, delivered from someone in his position. Ferus stops talking in surprise, and the Clones snap to even more alert than they already were, which was pretty alert, and he knows, he worked with Clones for years before they started shooting at him, because he is not supposed to talk, Vader ordered him to go quietly, and that applies in several ways –

Darkness creeps into the corners of his vision, and the last thing he sees before he collapses into unconsciousness is Ferus's shocked face as realisation of _something_ suddenly dawns on him.

A.N. Sidious has an idea, Obi-Wan has a Bad Feeling (as well he should), Vader has a tantrum (or close), Ferus has an appearance and a realisation, and I have a plot and chapter titles. Yay!

Thank you to those who took the time to read this, a bigger thank you to the people who have put this story on alerts, and a huge thank you to those who have reviewed. In regards to the reviewers, people, please join them. Even if it's just a few words, I'd like to know what you think.

I've just realised that I've been neglecting any disclaimers. Ah well, I'm posting on a _fanfiction_ site. I'm sure you're all smart enough to figure out that Star Wars ain't mine. In case of lawyers, let me repeat, it ain't mine, and that goes for the other chapters in the story too.


	5. Damaged Dreams of Hope

Obi-Wan woke up an indeterminable length of time later back in his cell with a pounding headache. He had, to his surprise, been laid out rather carefully, with no pressure on the worst of his injuries. The Clones, he supposed. Just because they followed orders to a fault did not mean that they were incapable of feeling compassion. He wondered briefly if the stories of Vader just grabbing the nearest Clone trooper and drinking from them were not so far from the mark as he had believed; they had certainly been more affected than he would have thought they, bred and conditioned for the battlefield and all the horrors that came with it, would be.

Whatever the reason, he was thankful.

His heart beat thrummed in time with the pounding in his head, and he lay there attempting to shut out the sound for some time before he realised that it was faster than normal.

A spike of alarm sent his heartbeat racing, hammering on the inside of his head, and he groaned, making the supreme effort of moving one leaden arm up to cover his eyes and block out the light.

_Calm._ Panic would not help him. He knew that. He was just having some difficulty putting it into practice; that was all. It was perfectly reasonable.

The blood loss. That was it. Headache, dizziness, fatigue, a chill. He knew the symptoms. He'd seen them before, made prominent once the wounds were patched up and the bleeding stopped – he shouldn't think about that. He had had enough nightmares recently without adding buried post-traumatic stress left over from the Clone Wars into the mix.

He hadn't had a nightmare last night. He had been too exhausted.

He laid there, eyes closed and listening to the silence, until he fell asleep again.

When he next woke, the headache had receded enough that he felt able to move, to sit up and open his eyes. The cell seemed brighter, the lights harsher than before, buzzing softly in a grating hum that was just barely audible. Clearly, they had not bothered to spend much on the lighting, or anything down here that was not designed to aid in keeping the prisoners in. Including the food, the most he could say for it being that it was nutritious. That was better than nothing at all, or some of the disgusting slop he had been served over the years, and he wondered what Vader and Sidious would say to being told that, minus the Vampire mind control and blood drinking, their holding facility was actually far from the worst he had visited.

Actually, they would probably go out of their way to change his mind, so mentioning that would not be the wisest idea.

Looking around, there was no food tray with nutrient bars and a cup of Coruscanti tap water – but there was a bottle of water, tucked right in the corner of his ledge, where it would be partially concealed from the camera by his body as he slept.

Stunned, he just stared at it for a moment, even as he automatically shifted so that he was once more blocking it from the observers view. They had to know, and it was probably not quite a breach of protocol given that, but plausible deniability was a good thing to have should some higher-up drop by. Whoever it was, he did not want to bring trouble down on their heads if they had tried to help him.

He inspected it. Bottled extra-filtered, the type that could be bought on the streets of the city planet for some small amount of credits but was freely given to the military. If Clone food regulations had not changed in that regard, then they would have had access to such bottles, free and with no one able to trace it the way bought items could be.

It was more likely to be them than one of the surveillance operators he had seen. Not only had they made a choice to work for the Empire, either by staying on when the takeover took place, or by joining since, unlike the Clone's, they would have had to go and buy it. He doubted any of them would go to such trouble.

The water soothed his parched throat. It was slightly warm, from sitting next to him, but it was fluid that he had needed, having missed – or possibly just not been given, due to his unconsciousness – the last however many meals.

"Thank you," he whispered in a voice that may or may not have been loud enough to be picked up. He was not sure, and would leave it to chance, or rather the Force, to decide.

After his next meal of the omnipresent nutrition bars, after which he had placed the empty bottle on the tray to be taken out with the empty plastic cup, he had barely sat down on the ledge, legs crossed in a meditative position and intending to centre himself and ponder how he was going to get out of here when the door burst open.

His first thought was Vader – though he had not been out for an entire week, surely – but the figure that came striding in, anger clouding his features, was not the Sith Lord. Neither was it the other Sith Lord. It was Ferus, and his eyes flashed as he took in Obi-Wan sitting there calmly looking at him with something akin to exasperation.

"Oh, is this the accommodations you've booked yourself? I would've thought that you'd go for something cosier, but then you were always such a good Jedi when it came to the no possessions rule, and any other rules there were." Vitriol spilled out, aimed at the Jedi sitting on the bench with his shoulders slightly slumped, the bruise-like purple bags under his eyes matching the actual bruises on his neck, both contrasting vividly with the pallor that dominated the rest of his appearance.

The dark-haired young man did not seem to notice any of this. Obi-Wan wondered what had happened to him since they last met; then, Ferus had been suspicious but had trusted Garen's judgement of him, and had not been overly hostile. A far cry from this, "Then again, that was about the only thing you were good at. That, and apparently letting yourself by used as a blood bag. Couldn't raise a Padawan without him turning to the Dark side, couldn't stop him once he did, couldn't kill Dooku and stop the war as it started – just how many died because of you Kenobi? How many died because you were a pathetic excuse for a Jedi – you didn't even take the trials of Knighthood, did you? You were knighted for killing Darth Maul, and didn't he turn up later and start killing people? You couldn't even do that right!"

He was pacing up and down the cell, apparently venting. At least he did not seem inclined to physical violence, for now. Obi-Wan flinched back at some of the accusations, because some of them…some of them were the thoughts that crept into his mind when people blamed him for the downfall of the Republic, because he had been well known and part of The Team and they had trusted him to save them. Some of them were thoughts that had turned up when he slept no matter how many time he banished them. They were thoughts that he had faced, and accepted that maybe they had a point, but while it was possible he could have done better, he could have done far worse, and Sidious had been planning this for a long, long time. Yoda had also been quite insistent that the Council as a whole held as much of the blame as he did, if not more. Obi-Wan was not sure what he thought of that – the memory of it still puzzled him when he thought on it, and how Yoda had blamed _himself_ for not seeing – but he had accepted that maybe, just maybe, the blame was not _all_ his to carry.

A lot of it was, and it hurt when it was flung in his face like this – but not all of it.

He had enough bruises without adding the ones on his shins he would get from Yoda's gimmer stick, after all.

"I bet you wouldn't have passed if you had taken them, the council just knighted you to get you out of the way," and he knew that was not true, if for some reason the Council had wanted him out of the way then they could have just sent him off the one of the corps, not kept him around where they would have to deal with him. "Or maybe it was to keep an eye on you, make sure you hadn't gone Darkside on them. I heard the stories, how you felt it and rejected it, but those stories came from you, and who else would know? Master Jinn died, and you were the only Jedi witness – how do I know that you didn't team up on him with the Sith, and spy on us during the war!"

It was so utterly nonsensical a thought that for a moment Obi-Wan could only gape. Just what would it have gained the Sith to have him raising Anakin as a Jedi when, in the scenario Olin was suggesting, they could have just taken him and disappeared well before any other Force users arrived? And for him to think…

Qui-Gon Jinn's death on Darth Maul's blade was an old, scarred over wound for Obi-Wan. He would always carry it with him, but he had healed as much as he ever would long ago. Obi-Wan had plenty of old wounds he could use for comparison, though most of them had occurred after his Master's death, and he knew that they healed, they scarred, they took a backseat to more recent injuries, and in bad weather they ached like no-one's business unless he used the Force to sooth them.

He did not have access to the Force now, as he stood up, slightly stiffly, and cut Olin off with a deadly quiet murmur of, "The security cameras in the Theed Palace generator core, for starters."

Olin blinked at him in a startled manner, as though he had expected Obi-Wan to just sit there and take all the verbal abuse that was being heaped onto him, before he snarled and started towards the imprisoned Jedi – and the same squad of Clone troopers – or part of them, there were only four that squeezed themselves into the cell – burst in, the leader shouting, "Orders to take the prisoner to the Emperor, so get your hands off of him_, civilian_."

Well, Obi-Wan supposed wearily, so much for meditating.

A.N. My knowledge of Ferus Olin comes from Wookieepedia and other fanfiction, so I imagine I didn't get him _quite_ right. According to Wookieepedia, he does spend some time in the Emperor's service sometime after the rise of the Empire, though he is still loyal to the rebels despite being influenced by a Sith holocron Sidious gave him – which would be why some of his rant make less than complete sense. As observed from Anakin in RotS, the Dark side can make you think some things that are very, very strange from a normal person's viewpoint. I'm sure it makes complete sense to him. Anyway Olin is here to represent what the rebels think of Obi-Wan, in a fashion slightly amplified by the holocron influencing him, since otherwise it would not be visible in anything other than Obi-Wan's ruminations.

Till next time. Grey out.


	6. Burning Wings

There were only two more clones outside the cell, Obi-Wan noted with some puzzlement, making the total of his escort six beings – half what had been there last time.

The leader didn't put binders on him either, though he did have his men keeping a hold of the Jedi's elbows. Obi-Wan checked his armour for any indication of rank. "Captain."

The Captain, ahead and to the left of him, stiffened. "Yes sir?"

Blinking, the Jedi was silent for a moment before he replied. "You know you don't need to call me that, do you not?"

"Respectfully, sir, you were and are a General. On the other side perhaps, but a captured enemy officer still gets called sir."

"Oh." He had not thought that anyone held that view anymore. It was refreshing – and disorientating. He knew most Rebels did not bother treating captured Imperials with respect.

Then again, the Clones were not given the choice of who to fight for. They were the enemy now, but they had once fought side by side, and Obi-Wan could respect their abilities even if he hated how those abilities were used. It was not the Clones that chose how they were used, after all.

"Thank you." Respect was not something he had thought he would find here. It was not, in fact, something he tended to find anywhere these days. He was used to that. He could deal with that.

"You're welcome, sir."

Thoughtful, Obi-Wan was marched along the hallways. They were going in the same direction as last time, he noticed. "What are your names?"

One by one, they answered him. The Captain was Dam, which he wryly said was short for Damage. The trooper beside the Captain was Ammo, the two holding his elbows Eightster and Greg, and behind him was B.T. or Btau, (apparently short for Blow Them All Up,) and Razor. When asked, they replied that they were escorting prisoners around the detention area was to break in some new members of their team. He refrained from asking, but Ammo's spat mutter – was it possible to spit a mutter? – of "Vader", with a sidelong glance at Obi-Wan's abused neck was all the answer needed. He supposed that particular horror story was true after all.

All in all, it was an almost surreally pleasant chat, other than Eightster's mention of joining the 501st at the very end of the Clone Wars. Greg diplomatically turned it into a quiet, "And I'm sorry that we never got the chance to work with you, sir," but that couldn't completely erase the cold that settled into Obi-Wan's heart at the implications.

That cold intensified as they neared the room where Obi-Wan had met the Emperor and Vader and the chatter died away.

Surely Vader was not hungry again – it could not have been that long, and he could have just come to the cell. "How long has it been since I was last here?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Two days, almost exactly," Greg murmured in his ear, picking up on the mood that seemed to have descended over them. He gave Obi-Wan a look of apology as they reached the door, Captain Dam palm scanning it open. Obi-Wan noted that that meant any Clone could access at least some parts of the prison levels, before he was shoved inside, and the door closed behind him, separating him from the first beings he had encountered here that had a shred of decency in them.

They had said that he was being taken to the Emperor, not Vader, but both Sith were in the room. Sidious rose from his chair at his entry, and somehow – possibly from the glint in the Sith Lord's eyes – Obi-Wan knew that he, at least, had no respect whatsoever for a Jedi.

Wondering why he was there, he decided to ask. It was not like he could get into any more trouble than he already was. Addressing the comment to Vader, he said off the top of his head, "Did you miss me that much? I would be flattered, but you are really not my type."

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then Obi-Wan began to wish he hadn't said it, as Sidious started up on that chuckle again. It was blasted creepy, that's what it was, and he barely managed to repress a shudder. This was why speaking without thinking through what you were going to say was a bad idea.

"Not quite on the mark, my boy," Sidious chortled, and Obi-Wan grit his teeth at the wildly inappropriate endearment.

"I am not your _anything_."

Vader snickered from behind Sidious; his eyes were shining with a sick glee, and the Bad Feeling Obi-Wan had had what was apparently two days ago had come rushing back with a vengeance. And now Sidious was _smiling_ too, and it looked horribly, horribly out of place on his face, disfigured what Obi-Wan could only suppose was excessive use of the Dark Side.

"Oh, but you _are_," Sidious all but purred, gliding closer, and Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything he felt the Force wrap around his jaw and clamp it shut, leaving the Sith Master to continue. "My prisoner," and Vader was following him, stalking behind his Master like a predator that _knows_ it has its prey cornered and is looking forward to playing with it. Obi-Wan retreated away from them, but the angle had left him in a corner, and they were between him and the only door, which would not open for him – and even if it did, the Clone were standing guard outside, and he had nothing to deflect their blaster shots. They followed orders, after all. "And my Acolyte."

What?

Deprived of speech, Obi-Wan could only shake his head furiously at them as they Vader came up beside Sidious, boxing him in, as he tried to release or at least calm the raging storm of confusion mixed with a dose of pure terror.

Because when Vader pressed in, Obi-Wan realised what was about to happen again. And he pre-empted the next movement by ducking, kicking Vader square in between the legs, and grabbing the lightsaber hanging from the doubling over Sith Apprentice's belt as he half dodged, half shoved past, putting Vader between himself and the Emperor for the brief moment it took for him to ignite the lightsaber. And then he lunged. Vader was able to dodge enough that the red blade only pierced his shoulder, and not his heart, and then the Emperor had pulled his own lightsaber out of nowhere and attacked.

It was never a fair fight.

Obi-Wan was tired, injured, and nowhere near recovered from losing so much blood ever such a short amount of time. And, while his Mastery of Soresu allowed him to defend himself extremely well, he was lacking the Force to sink into, to warn him of where the next strike would come – for there was no pattern that Obi-Wan could see, and he did not recognise the style that the Sith Master was using. Sidious was also using the Force to augment his strength, and the longer the fight went on, the more the Jedi tired, and the more he felt that Sidious was playing with him. Yes, he could see how four of the best saber fighters the Order had produced had died at this mans' hands. With the Force, and his body in good condition, he would be able to survive against the Sith, though he was not sure for how long. Right now, though…

Sidious seemed to abruptly bore of the fight, and lightning burst from his hands without warning, blasting the lightsaber out of Obi-Wan's hands when he attempted to deflect it, and then hurling him into the wall.

He lay there, dazed, with the world swimming before his eyes as Sidious floated Vader over. He struggled feebly as an iron grip closed around his arm, lifting his wrist to Vader's mouth – _no!_ – and then he felt the venom flooding his body, more noticeable in his semi-conscious state.

Sidious left him there, slumped against the wall, as he went to the door, and then the clones were there, picking up Vader and loading him onto a foldout stretcher, one picking up the dropped lightsaber, and then Sidious was crouching over him, one wrinkled and _cold_ hand lifting his head by the chin, and if he had ever had to guess, he would have thought that Sidious's skin would be clammy, but it was dry and flaky instead, and felt like it was shedding skin cells where his skin made contact with Obi-Wan's, leaving an invisible trail that tainted him, left him feeling dirty.

Vader was there, lying on the stretcher but awake, if in some pain. Sidious whispered in his ear for a moment, and then the junior Sith's gaze focused on the Jedi.

There was murder in his eyes.

"You will kneel before Lord Sidious and recite the Sith code, however many times he asks you to."

And that was that. The damage was done, the order given.

At least Vader would not be there to be more specific. The Sith's options were constrained by Vader's injuries; Vader could not now be there to give more specific orders to the drugged Jedi, limiting Sidious to just what Vader could order him to do now.

"Stand up." There may have been more, but Vader's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed back onto the stretcher. Sidious snarled, waving the Clones out, leaving the Master Sith alone with the Jedi who was increasingly lucid and increasingly aware of just how much trouble he was in.

The door shut once more, leaving a terrible silence.

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion." Sidious's voice rasped almost reverently across the words that should not be as familiar to the Jedi as they were. "Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me." He paused reverently, before meeting the Jedi's eyes. "The Sith code. I imagine you have heard it before."

He had. First read in the Temple Archives in a document looked up for a history essay; he had heard them far too many times since. Zigoola, where he had not even realised what the whisper in the background had been until well after the Holocron had been smashed and he had been on his way away from the planet, and Rattatak, where Ventress had whispered it in his ears and the Sith Torture Mask had whispered it in his mind, to name a few. Yes, he had heard it before.

"You have messed up my plans, Kenobi," the Sith hissed, inches from his face. "And while we can pick this up another time, this will do until my Apprentice can re-join us. And while this is not quite what I planned…"

He leaned in even closer, until there were nose to nose, almost touching. Red streaked the perpetually sickly yellow eyes. "I've been looking forward to this."

A.N. At least Obi-Wan got a chance to fight back for a moment, right? And we find out some of Sidious's diabolical idea. In regards to the Clones, they just marched in and took over the first bit. (Are the names believable?)

Thank you so much to my reviewers.

Grey


	7. Bloodless Illusion

He had to stay calm. The venom did wear off; that he had woken up in control of his own body each time after being fed on was proof of that. He even had something of a time, given his smart remark to Olin. He would not have been able to speak at all if it had _not_ been wearing off.

What was Sidious hoping to gain from this? It was humiliating, yes, but there was only the two of them here. It was not like anyone else would…see…

The Dark Lord of the Sith had brought a previously unnoticed case floating out from behind his chair. It opened, and recording equipment floated out.

…blast.

"I can feel your horror," Sidious murmured. "It's _delicious_."

The recording equipment, which Obi-Wan recognised as the expensive type that would be incredibly detailed for a hologram, and were incredibly difficult to fake, floated into position in a casual use of the Force that would have Obi-Wan frowning inwardly had his attention not been on the other thing Sidious had brought out.

It was a simple black robe; similar to the one Sidious was wearing, other than a high collar that would button right up the throat of the person wearing it.

Sidious gave him a glance. "Since you have removed my Apprentice temporarily from the equation, I cannot simple order you to put this on, can I?" he murmured, more to himself than the Jedi. "Very well..."

The robe was lifted up into the air with the Force, billowing towards Obi-Wan like a wraith of the Dark side before it swallowed his vision as it wafted gently down over his head, pinning his arms to his sides. Even knowing that he had no current control over his body's reactions, the feeling of being physically trapped was almost overwhelming for the few moments it took for Sidious to spot the problem and abuse the Force to correct it.

The Force was not meant for menial tasks, and Obi-Wan was, in a corner of his mind, slightly ashamed of that corner of his mind's relief at Sidious abusing it so instead of causing him to come into physical contact with the Sith Master again.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

It was far easier thought than done. But then, anything worth doing tended to be. And so he noted the feeling of tendrils of the Dark side of the Force curling around his limbs and moving them in a way that would not have been possible if he had been able to physically resist, and he released the gut-clenching disgust at the thought of being manhandled by the Dark Side of the Force, slowly, focusing on his breathing, which was not under his control, but was regular and something that was far less horrifying to focus on than anything else at that time. Being manhandled by Vader had been bad enough.

Sidious choose to do up the buttons at the neck manually, and Obi-Wan's skin crawled as the papery, flaky fingers brushed his throat – an effect that the Sith Master was well aware of, and had likely caused on purpose, judging by the slight smirk curling him mouth and revealing rotting teeth. It was, Obi-Wan thought slightly absently in an attempt to distract himself, a minor miracle they had not fallen out yet. Or perhaps not: Sidious must be using the Dark side to keep his body together even as its use caused him more damage, forcing him to become even more dependent on it. It was the nature of the Dark side to do such, as while it could cause beings to live beyond their time and do things that were unnatural, it did not make it pleasant even as it convinced it's user that the price was worth it, until their only way of escaping it was through death because if they ever relinquished their hold on it, who they were would die. Not physically, but who they were in the Dark, their _identity_, would die.

That was another insight that had gotten him some very strange looks from his fellow Masters when he shared it.

Sidious set the recording cam in place, holding it in the air. He stood in front of it, facing sideways, and then spoke, his voice reflecting none of the malice glittering in his eyes. "Kneel."

Responding to Vader's previous instruction, his body walked across the room and knelt at the feet of the Sith Master, and Obi-Wan wondered if the control extended to preventing him from throwing up. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see a blinking light that indicated the cam was on, and something that was either a sob or a laugh rose in his throat before sticking there.

He felt his mouth open, unprompted, and then the words reached his ears and he began reciting the Jedi code in his mind to counter them.

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion."

_There is no emotion, there is peace_.

"Through passion, I gain strength."

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

"Through strength, I gain power."

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

"Through power, I gain victory."

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

"Through victory, my chains are broken."

_There is no death, there is the Force._

"The Force shall free me."

There was silence. Obi-Wan stared at the floor, which was where his eyes were pointed right now, in the utterly subservient position used by Sith disciples when cornered by their master. His heart, wounded so many times, from his Master tossing him aside to his Padawan turning on him and the Jedi, to the suspicions of those he was fighting for the same cause as, added yet another wound to its collection of scars. It hurt. It burned with hurt and fear and anger and _hate_, hate for this being standing above him, gloating silently about having appeared to have broken the Jedi to his will.

But he hadn't.

The illusion was there. The actions, forced by the vampire venom and the orders given, were there. His heart was wounded – but it was still beating, every throb of pain reminding him that he was still alive, still fighting on the inside. It was still there, and he was still there, even if no one would believe it after seeing this. And while Sidious revelled in the moment, despite its falsity, he steeled himself.

This was going to hurt. Maybe not physically, though there was no guarantee, but it would hurt. And so would the outright rejection of any rebels who saw the holo just made – and they would see it, he knew. That was how Sidious operated.

He heard a click as the recording shut off. Sidious's voice reached his ears. "And so you begin to understand. They will not trust you after this you know." He knew. "There will be nowhere for you to hide, no one to be your ally – unless you join me. Make the fiction a reality."

But just because no one else would believe in him was not a reason to stop fighting. No matter how much it hurt.

"Just something for you to ponder." Once again, tendrils on the Dark side wrapped themselves around his limbs, placing him on his feet. "Resistance is futile; I have seen you by my side in my visions."

There was a click as the cam switched back on. "Kneel."

He detached himself to ponder this. Sidious may well have had a vision, but visions of what kind? Fantasies, perhaps? Regardless, even if what Sidious referred to was a prophetic vision, he had seen first-hand how hollow prophecies could be, how ever-changing the future was. If he gave in to Sidious's "visions" he would be making them come true. And he would not give in.

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me."

Outer chains were nothing compared to chains of the mind. Victory for victory's sake was meaningless and hollow. Power and strength – what kind was it supposed to mean? Their meaning depended on how you used them, and what type of power or strength you meant. And there was passion, just not for a Jedi, who replaced passion with serenity. As for peace…it was elusive, and the Dark sought to destroy it at every turn, but it definitely existed. The Dark's own pursuit worked against it, as in doing so, they acknowledged its existence.

Then he was back on his feet again. "Kneel."

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me."

And even as he recited it, he found peace within himself, in the knowledge that who believed what did not actually matter, in comparison to what actually was.

Over and over, it was repeated, Sidious revelling in the power he was holding over the Jedi, pausing only to transmit some of the recordings to his intelligence department's head. Over and over, over and over, with Sidious deciding to relax in his chair after the first few, only exerting himself to set Obi-Wan on his feet by use of the Force. Over and over, until Obi-Wan estimated that hours had passed.

And because hours had passed, Obi-Wan's tiredness born of blood loss increased, and his feet and knees ached, and his mouth became dry from so much talking, so many times repeating the words he did not believe. Because hours passed, he let himself detach for a while and focus on his renewed understanding, and took the time to solidify his confidence that even though he was cut off from it, the Force, the _Light_ side of the Force, would find a way to reach him, even here.

And because hours had passed, he had to return his attention to the present, to the motions he ran through and the words he recited, because while he could not escape from the Sith Master, he could escape from Clone troopers when they escorted him to his cell.

He was certainly not about to alert Sidious, that because hours had passed, the venom was wearing off.

A.N. I think this is nearing the end, so I hope that clears up the nature of the venom, and through it, Vader's control a bit. Thank you again to everyone who has read this, and most especially to my reviewers. You are wonderful, wonderful people, and I love the feedback.

Grey


	8. Tainted Sunlight

The torture finally ended when Sidious was alerted to his apprentice having woken and reacted violently to the bacta tank immersion. He appeared rather irritated at the interruption, but ended the session, parting with a, "Remember, you are welcome to join me, any time you want," before pacing out with terse instructions to the guard at the door to "Take the prisoner back to its cell."

To his surprise, there was only the two of them there. Obi-Wan could hear it in their footsteps, though he stayed kneeling on the floor, and kept his face expressionless. He did not want to tip anyone off.

He heard the quiet clatter of plastisteel armour drawing close, then a sigh. Forcing himself to remain unresponsive, his eyes remained on the floor as he felt rough hands go under his armpits and heave him to his feet.

At the very edge of his sight, he thought he identified Ammo and Greg, but he was not positive. He had not known these particular clones for long – barely a day, if he only counted the time he had talked to them.

It had been harder, in a way, to continue the motions after the venom had started to wear off. Indeed, a slightly childish part of his brain had considered, several times, switching without warning to the Jedi code – but he had not. He felt rather dirty, having knelt at the Sith master's feet and recited the Sith code, a feeling that had intensified after the control had faded and he had had to force himself to go through with the motions.

The feeling of dirtiness did not come entirely from that, though. There was no shower, sonic or otherwise, in the cell he had been given. There was a toilet, and some anti-bacterial gel, and of course the ledge, but no facilities he could use to wash himself. He had not been given a change of clothes either, and was still in the now rather grimy thin prison shirt and trousers. He had, thankfully, been allowed to keep his boots. It was ridiculous to be attached to an object, even without starting on what the Code – the _Jedi_ code – would have to say on the matter, but they were the only material thing he still had of the Jedi Order. They were a material possession, and he would leave them behind if necessary, but he liked those boots. Quite apart from their sentimental value, they were good, sturdy footwear.

He was prodded into the hallway, and was preparing to attack and incapacitate the two – they may be nice enough beings, but they were enemy soldiers standing between him and freedom – when he felt a metal cylinder be passed into his hand.

It was a lightsaber.

What in the galaxy…?

His confusion did not stop him from acting, and in one smooth movement the lightsaber was activated, swept through both of their blasters and came to rest at one's – Ammo's – throat. It was, he noted with some resignation, red, but it was a lightsaber.

Neither Clone looked at all surprised. The barrels of the blasters clattered to the floor, followed shortly by the now useless handgrips.

He could have killed them. Letting a Jedi escape on their watch would be met with severe punishment by the Empire, even if Sidious was apparently unconcerned – his parting words indicated that he suspected something was up. The logical follow up thought, that Sidious had realised or even just suspected the venom had worn off and had been enjoying himself watching Obi-Wan pretend that it had not, did not particularly bear thinking about. Neither did the realisation that Sidious felt that even after escaping, he would come back of his own will.

"Why?" Ammo and Greg exchanged looks, and then Greg's eyes met his, full of pain. "We were soldiers in the Clone Wars. We remember what it was to be fighting for freedom." He bowed his head. "Anchor spoke out, a bit. Just in the privacy of the barracks, but then when Vader got hungry, he went for him. Vader always goes for the ones who speak, who dare to _think_ for themselves. You're a Jedi, and we remember what - what that means." His voice broke, just a little, and Ammo gave him a sympathetic look before he met Obi-Wan's gaze and said steadily;

"There were younglings in the Temple."

Younglings. Babies. Healers, teachers, the infirm, the crippled in body, the old.

"I know." His own voice was surprisingly steady, but then it had taken many long hours of meditation before he had been able to think of the Temple without smelling the smoke and the ozone of blaster shots and lightsabers, without seeing the bodies he had passed as he ran into the Temple, towards the bright lights, dimed with fear, that were rapidly being extinguished and the Dark, almost overwhelming signature that he instinctively knew was cutting them down, only to arrive too late. The younglings, and they could not have been more than eight years old, most of them, though there had been a couple of teenage Padawans who looked to have fallen in an attempt to protect them, had been lying strewn across the floor, and in the mist of it all a dark figure, and then the _Sith_ had turned to face him and he had recognised his Padawan…

They had fought that day. They had fought long and hard, in the midst of the Temple's ruins, feet slipping on blood and stumbling to avoid stepping on any of the bodies. He had lost, though he had survived by fleeing, after only a last millisecond deflection had turned a limb-sheering blow into a deep, agonising burn down his leg. Bacta had healed it enough to prevent infection, but he had had a limited amount, and the scarring remained. He had been lucky not to actually lose a limb; Force knew Master Yoda had not been so fortunate in his later attempt to remove Sidious from power, and had only survived the wounds courtesy, Obi-Wan had found out later, of Bail Organa.

"They didn't deserve to die like that." Greg's voice was almost a whisper.

"Don't leave us alive. Please." Ammo was looking at him, his gaze as steady as his voice had been. Obi-Wan understood the sentiment. He had seen the state Padme had been in after her rescue from an Imperial torture facility where she had been held for sneaking her children to safety, away from Sidious and her husband.

There had been no way to save her from the poison in her bloodstream. She would have died a long and painful death, completely unaware of her surroundings and that she was now among friends, had the decision not been made with heavy hearts to end her suffering.

He would not leave these two – honourable beings, in their own ways, despite their circumstances – to suffer a similar fate.

He nodded. A moment later, their heads thumped to the ground.

The place was eerily quiet, and though Obi-Wan had no way of knowing what the normal level of traffic was, he suspected it was more than this. He had pulled the hood of the robe up, over his face, and kept the deactivated lightsaber in hand. The few people that had crossed his path – minor officials of some sort, if he had to guess – had had pasted very unconvincing not-terrified looks on their faces (or not bothering, letting out a squeak and breaking into a run back the way he came, in one case) and hurried past, very deliberately not looking at him, so he supposed the disguise was working.

The building, which he supposed must be the lower levels of the Imperial Palace, had an astonishing variety of functions. From the offices of the minor officials he had passed, to the cell blocks he had come from, to a surgical rom he slipped into to "borrow" in order to scan for the chip preventing him from accessing the Force, and then cut it out. He gritted his teeth as he wrapped the cut – too messy for a surgical cut, but he did not want to wait the time it too for an anaesthetic to spread through his system, even if he did know how exactly the were preventing him from using the Force.

Given that it did not return immediately after he pulled the chip out, slick with blood in fingers that were only not shaking from the pain through sheer willpower, it was some sort of compressed drug that was slowly released into his system, and he became very glad he had chosen to forgo the painkiller. Some Force suppression drugs reacted extremely badly to them.

He wrapped his leg – and no wonder he had not been able to locate the chip through touch alone, hidden as it had been beneath the scar tissue – in bacta and bandages, and took some more that he placed in a sealed plastic bag which then went into one of the pockets of the robe. Then, he limped out, leaving the chip behind. As useful as Force suppression drugs could be if he found a way to get them out of the compressed container, the possibility of there being a tracking device included made it not worth the risk.

The Force started to return to him sometime later in his trek – and how big was this place? – just a little, and he dared not slip into meditation and get speed up the metabolising of the drugs, and it gave him nudges in the right directions until, some hours after he had left Ammo and Greg's cooling bodies in the hall after closing their eyes and dragging them out of the way, he reached the exit.

The noise of Coruscant reached him, and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

His appearance, coupled with the most Force persuasion he could muster, let him pass out into the sunlight. And once he was out of sight of the doorway, he stopped in the blind spot between some of the security cams, pulled back the hood, and just breathed as he enjoyed the feel of the sunshine warming his face.

A.N. I think there will be one more chapter after this, or maybe an epilogue of sorts. Regardless, this story is reaching an end. Thank you all for your support – and could you perhaps give you opinion on, say, whether Sidious knew that the venom was wearing off and kept repeating the order just to torture Obi-Wan? Much appreciated.

Grey


	9. Epilogue

Epilogue

It took several months for him to work his way to the obscure outer rim planet that Yoda was hiding on. Given that he was hiding from both Rebel and Imperial forces, the former of which apparently rather wanted to kill him and the latter of which kept trying to help him, something which, in a way, was worse. He was only glad it didn't take longer. He had had to shake the Imperials off of his tail every time they had noticed him, and the "help" they provided in equipment, food and clothing – left where he would find it when they suspected he was in the area – tended to come with tracking devices.

As had the lightsaber, which removed any question about how constructed his escape had been.

He had wondered long and hard over that, as he spent hours removing the device from the lightsaber's innards. It had not been as difficult as it could have been, just time consuming, and he had taken a distinct pleasure in destroying the device with the blade once it was done. He had thought about just what Vader thought of the whole affair, about Greg and Ammo and just what their part in all of this had been, and about Sidious's confidence that he would come, of his own free will, to the Dark side. That had to be why he had been essentially let go; the Dark Lord's confidence that Obi-Wan would have nowhere to go other than back into his grasp.

Sidious had certainly made the most of the footage that had been produced. It had been done slyly, from what Obi-Wan had gathered, making the information getting into Rebel hands look like a catastrophic information leak that had taken effect even as Obi-Wan took his first steps outside the Imperial Palace in weeks.

It had been effective. The most widespread of the Rebel networks, that constructed by Bail Organa and Mon Mothma in the final days of the Republic, had been the ones to find it, and they had spread it across the Galaxy in warning even as their leaders had caught their first sight of it. Given that hostility, Obi-Wan had been unable to contact Bail through those channels to tell him the truth, and any other means of communication would be monitored by the Empire, and as good as pointing a finger at Bail and shouting "Here is one of the Rebel Leaders!" at the top of his lungs, _in front_ of _Sidious._ As such, he had no idea what his friend thought.

Though he suspected – and hoped – that Bail had enough sense to figure it out. Obi-Wan did have a lot of information that could damage the Rebels substantially, and that information _not_ getting into the Empire's hands was a fair indication that all was not as it seemed. Not that most of the Galaxy appeared to care.

Sighing, he pulled his attention back to the present. The lightsaber bumped against his thigh as he walked, hidden under a long jacket that was currently protecting him from the spots of rain that were falling and threatening to turn into a full on downpour that he would deal with when it happened, should he still be outside at that time.

He was a long way from anywhere remotely settled, out in the middle of nowhere and left a bit – the perfect hiding place for a Jedi Master and his two young charges.

He felt Yoda detect him first, the old master's mind brushing gently against his own, pausing, and then retreating.

Leaping across a gulf in the rocky hillside, he looked down at the valley. Any sentient life was, at first glance, completely absent, but the wind carried the faint but unmistakeable sounds of young laughter to his ears. It brought an unconscious smile to his face, that he only noticed when his cheeks began aching from the unfamiliar gesture. It had been a long time since he had had a reason to smile.

Thick heather, still damp with dew from the morning, grabbed at his legs as he pushed on into the valley and the rain began to fall in a steady, soft patter, quieting the sounds of the world around him as he reached the grasses and moved decisively through them on a direct path to the entrance to the cave that he could see from here, though from this distance it appeared to be just another hollow in a slab of bare rock.

He ducked through the dripping entrance, now soaked to the bone, with his hair plastered to his skull, the water darkening it and disguising the grey that now dominated the areas near his temples and peppered the rest. The hollow in the rock extended back, only to turn sharply with only a small space, invisible from the entrance, granting access to the hideaway behind. It had, perhaps, once been a place for the natives of this planet's least lawful members to hide less than legal items, but they had been all but wiped out by a solar flare that had drastically changed the conditions of the planet for several hundred years. There were settlements, where some descendants of those few who had escaped alive had moved back, but they were far away from here, where light filtered down through twisting mirrored shafts in the rock to illuminate what would have otherwise been a dark and gloomy place with daylight.

Yoda was waiting for him, sitting on a large flat rock that was rather painfully reminiscent of the circular stools in the meditation rooms back in the temple.

The old Jedi looked far better than he had been last time they had met, when the bandages covering where Yoda's right arm had connected to his body were still on and he had still been leaning heavily on his cane to compensate for the severed muscle in the leg on the same side, a leg that had looked like it was about to give out at any moment. It had been deemed too dangerous for them to both be in the same place, so Bail had transported the two younglings from one rendezvous point to the other, once Yoda had recovered enough to look after them. There were no bandages, at the very least, and the colour was back in his face.

"Expecting you, I have been."

Obi-Wan took a seat on a rock near him silently. The movement revealed the lump where the saber was located, drawing Yoda's sharp eyes to it. "A lightsaber you have, hmm? Show it to me, you will."

Wincing, Obi-Wan unclipped the saber from his belt. The Force, guided by Yoda, lifted it up into the air slowly spinning it around. A bloody glow filled the air as it ignited. "A Sith lightsaber, this once was?"

"Yes, Master Yoda." Obi-Wan drew his legs up onto the stone, hugging his knees and wondering if he was being judged. The little green being was silent for a long time, studying the spinning object, before it was deactivated and deposited back into Obi-Wan's hand.

"No more, I think. Made it your own, you have."

Obi-Wan blinked. Then he frowned. While he had rebuilt the lightsaber after completely dismantling it to get the tracking device out, and modified it in the process to change the feel of it in his hand, he had not thought of it as making it his _own_. It had belonged to a Sith. It had a red blade, and while Obi-Wan would certainly not discard a weapon because of its colour, every time he activated it had reminded him of where it had come from, and how it had come into his possession. "I…suppose."

"Judge by what you see over what you feel, do you?"

Recognising the instruction in the gentle admonishment, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and reached out to the lightsaber – and to his surprise found a resonating echo of his own signature as the main impression held by the crystal. There were fading traces of pain, and suffering and anger and hate and all the emotions that Sith embraced and Jedi were not supposed to feel. Some, to his shame, were his own emotions that had been provoked by his utter helplessness in his captivity and had taken their time in fading, though most were left from Vader's use of the saber. Most of all though, was his own Force-signature, overriding the impression Vader had left.

Feeling rather foolish for having missed that, he blinked his eyes open again. "Oh."

"Harrumph." Yoda looked faintly exasperated. "A Jedi blade it is, now. Chose, it did _not_, how it would be used by Vader. Accept it you should, past included." The little green being shuffled over to the edge of the stone, and then slowly got up, leaning on his cane. "Hurt, you were. To forgive it, you need. To forgive _yourself_, you need." He hobbled further into the cave. "Come, come. Talk later, we will. For now, meet the little ones, would you like to?"

Nodding, slightly bemused, Obi-Wan followed. A few short twists later, the tunnel bloomed out into a large, equally well lit cave. A humble building was set near a small stream of rainwater that was swelling, overflowing a series of dams that would hold the liquid for use when it was not falling from the sky. Just outside it were two small children using the Force to push a ball back and forth through the air.

"They've grown." It was all he could think of to say. Even so young, they were spitting images of their parents. He had taken care of them for a short time as babies, while Yoda healed from his injuries, but that was nothing compared to seeing them now.

The comment earned him a soft thwack on the ankle, and he looked down to find Yoda smiling up at him. "Common occurrence that is with younglings," he said brightly, and it took Obi-Wan a moment to realise he was being teased as Yoda called out, "Young ones! A visitor, we have."

The children noticed him for the first time, dropping the ball and running over, stopping several meters away.

The brunette girl drew herself up even as her twin hung back. "Who're you?"

"Patience, Leia. About to introduce you, I was. " Leia ducked her head for a moment, before she went back to staring up at Obi-Wan. "Luke, Leia, Obi-Wan Kenobi this is. Obi-Wan, Leia and Luke Skywalker."

Both studied him for a moment, then Luke hugged his leg, muttered "Hello," and ran back to where he had been playing before, having lost interest. Leia looked at him a bit longer, before blurting out, "Tall, you are."

After a moment of shock, Obi-Wan stifled a laugh. Why hadn't he predicted this, knowing the children were going to be raised by Yoda? "Only in comparison, I'm afraid."

She frowned up at him. "Not supposed to fear," she admonished, before looking at Yoda imploringly, her expression silently asking him to please enlighten this poor, unknowing intruder.

Yoda's eyes were sparkling. "Talk to him, I will," he promised her, before using his stick to nudge her back in the direction of her brother. "Go, practice you will, while I do so?"

She looked uncertain – probably wanting to watch him being told, just to make sure – but nodded, and followed her brother. Yoda chuckled.

"A good place for healing and growth this is." The old Jedi smiled suddenly up at him. "Stay, will you?"

Later, they would talk of fear, and Sith, and Rebels and holograms and all those things that needed said. Right now, Obi-Wan did not have to think long for the answer to come to him. Quite apart from his own feelings, the Force was singing the rightness of the decision to him. "I think so, yes."

Besides, _someone_ had to teach the children proper grammar.

A.N. And so the end is here. Thank you to everyone who has read this, those who put it on alerts, and most especially my wonderful reviewers, for your support. And as it is the last post, I'm going to be blatant and say, please review. After all, how else will I know what you thought of my Yoda?


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